from the coal-wharf with a lighter snuggled beside her.
"Why, pretty good, I reckon," answered Laurie.
Brose Wilkin's grin broadened more. "Guess you weren't up there when we played you that twenty-two to three game. Course not. That was five years ago. That was some game, boys. Hillman's didn't get a hit until the fifth and didn't put a run over until the eighth. Then our in-field went flooey for a minute, and your crowd piled in three runs. Some game!"
"Did you play?" asked Laurie.
Brose nodded and squirted some oil in the general direction of the little engine. "Yeah," he answered. "Pitched."
"Oh! Well, you must have been good," replied Laurie.
"Fair," the other acknowledged modestly. "That would have been a shut-out if a couple of our in-fielders hadn't cracked."
Laurie stared intently at the Pequot Queen, now less than two hundred yards away. After a moment he asked idly, "Do you still play ball?"
"Yeah, I pitch for the Lambert team, over to
